


Heliotrope

by mathildia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: All the warnings, BTW, Blood, Bondage, Fluids, M/M, Not the good kind, Psychological Torture, Torture, Whump, Wound Fucking, he's already dead, please feel very warned, slight cs, slight though, thirst, tragic millian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: "Creative Beatings"





	Heliotrope

How much time passed for Killian before he was saved from Hell?

Long enough.

*

There are many rooms. Hades likes to explain that he has different rooms for different purposes. Although so far, for him, all the purposes have been torture. He has learned, inch by inch, scar by scar, what he is here for. Beatings, whippings, brandings. knives and piers, blood and bone. He didn’t even know what the thing Hades had used to slowly gouge one of his eyes out was called, but it seemed designed only for that purpose. 

When he’s not in one of the rooms he’s in his cell. He sleeps under a thin blanket on a pile of straw, water in a bowl and bad food kicked under the door. He hasn’t been fed for a while and the bowl doesn’t get refilled very often. He hasn’t had water for days. His mouth is like sand.

Sometimes they leave him in here for so long he thinks he’s been left to die before he remembers he’s already dead. He can’t die. He’s denied even that. 

So the only good days are the days no one opens to the door to his cell. No guards come to drag to him to one of the rooms.

The sounds of the those bolts being drawn back is imprinted on him now. So deep that the first scrape has him shaking like a fucking dog. 

It’s usually only physical pain. However there was a day when Hades stopped what he was doing - tracing patterns on Killian's inner thighs with a hot iron, pointing out how strange and interesting his particular and desperate cries of pain were when he burnt him on the thin skin between his legs - to say, casually, “Oh there is something I have been meaning to tell you. What was it?”

Killian struggled to get control of his ragged breath. “What?”

“Ah yes, that’s it. Mary, Maria. No Milah. Milah is here. Yes. I thought you’d want to know. I understand you cared.”

“Milah.” Killian whispered. And the thought that followed it, a horrific rush, that somewhere in this place Milah was being tormented too. Like this. Had been for centuries. He jolted against the chains holding him down. “I’ve you’ve hurt her…”

“Oh no,” Hades waved a hand. “Nothing like this is happening to _her._ Didn’t you know? _You_ are receiving special attention. She’s just up amongst the rabble with unfinished business.”

“Unfinished…?”

“Yes. Why that face…oh? You think it’s you, don’t you. Her issue. Oh, how funny. No it’s not you. She got over you very quickly. Ironic that, isn’t it?” Hades scrunched his nose. ”No it’s her son. Funny coincidence actually. _You_ turned her son over to some kind of demon, I believe. Details are hazy. Been a while.” Hades grinned up, crouching between Killian’s spread legs. 

“Pan? What of it,” Killian choked. But he knew what he'd done and he knew the pain from the glowing iron on his flesh wass well deserved because of it. He was a bad man. He was a villain. Hell was real. Killian ached suddenly for another spark of white agony from the iron, but the red tip had stopped glowing. The pain was still everywhere, tight and hot, but there wasn’t going to be any more. Not while Hades was enjoying another way of making him suffer.

“She knows about that. The demon” Hades said blithely. “I like to let her know how her son is doing. From time to time. Especially if it’s traumatic. So of course I showed her _that_. And I think that was when she cursed your name and swore to never think of you with love again.”

When Hades had turned to reheat the iron in the brasier, Killian hadn’t thought anything physical Hades could do could hurt him like what he’d just said. He was wrong though. This was before the eye.

The room he’s been brought to today, like a lot of them, is mostly bare. Stone walls, stone floor. Dim lights that flicker like candles but he can’t see any candles. And one piece of furniture. Or something like furniture. A large metal frame that he’s been strapped to by Hades’s guards. It’s rusty metal, ugly and brutal, no comfort. And he’s fastened kneeling, ankles chained, and his body draped over a long cold table, wrists also strapped down. There’s something like a belt - he can’t see it - draped over his back, holding him down at the waist.

He assumes this position is for whipping. Although, with his ass presented, perhaps Hades plans to spank him like a naughty child, as far as he could recall, he’s relatively unmarked there. Spanking however, does seem rather charming compared to some of the things Hades has done to hurt him. Although, it would be humiliating. Perhaps that’s what’s coming next. 

Hadn’t Hades said something yesterday? That he had something special planned? 

Something special? What would be special to a man like Hades? A man who, three days ago, had used a chisel to break every bone in each of Killian’s five fingers and told him he was lucky to only have one hand.

He’ll find out soon.

Hades is here.

He’s not said much yet and all he’s doing now is circling the frame, dress shoes clicking on the stone. This is not unusual. This is often his way. He likes to ‘build anticipation’ he said once. But that word doesn’t seem bad enough for the feeling he is creating as he makes Killian wait. 

Killian’s pissed himself before from the fear. Just waiting to see what Hades was going to to. He’s probably too dehydrated for that today. His throat is raw.

Eventually, when he’s taken his time looking at every part of Killian’s body, Hades says, “This device is very good. I do like to have the right equipment for the job in hand. Don’t you agree, Captain?”

Killian says nothing. All he wants to do is beg for water, but he doesn’t.

“Don’t be like that,” Hades says, stopping his circling, standing in front of Killian at the head of the frame. “You’re a Pirate remember. I bet you took a few prisoners in your time. And if you needed some information, needed the location of, ooh, a cache of jewels and suchlike. Tell me, what did you favour.” Killian’s not looking at him but Hades takes a handful of hair and lifts his head. “What implement?”

Killian stares at him, then spits out, “Knife.” His voice is a scrape.

“Oh, a knife. Adorable. Almost quaint. Was it a _big cutlass_? For the big bad pirate?” Hades punctuates this by leaning over and slapping on Killian’s flank with his free hand. It’s not a hard slap. But he’s a mess of broken ribs and god know what else there that won’t heal and won’t kill him and he cries out in pain. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Is it sore there?” Hades says and then punches him hard right in the same spot. Killian bellows. “Ah,” says Hades. “I see it is. Good to know.” And hits him again.

Killian screams. He used to try to hold back his moans of pain. In the first few days when Hades was gleefully working him over, he’d been stoic, bitten his tongue bloody to deny Hades the satisfaction. Not anymore. There’s no point. Nothing makes any difference. Nothing changes his fate. He is dead. This is the kind of death that follows a bad life.

 

“But we’ve had fun with a knife already, of course,” Hades says. “I shouldn’t scoff. Quite the evening, that was. I ran out of places to cut you. What a wonderful time we had. I suppose it was _more for me_.” He sighs. “And there was the flaying, of course. Oh I do love a flaying. It’s almost like a party for two people. Okay, a party for one person and pure hell for the other. But, you know something, pirate, this _is_ hell. So, I guess that’s about right.”

Killian looks a Hades with one lidded eye. “Just get on with it. Whatever you’re going to do. No more taunting. Just, god, just do it.”

“ _No more taunting_? But I’ve not even got to the part where I remind you that no one will rescue you. Not even death, Because, oh yes, that’s me,” Hades laughs. Killian has listened to that laugh a lot. Through pain, through freezing cold, through burning, through branding, through the gnaw of days of hunger. And now through this ache and burn of thirst. “Now, this will amuse you, so do listen. Do you remember when you first arrived, you thought you could get me to go easy on you by using your charm? You actually _flirted_. Funny to think of that now, isn’t it? That you’d have the energy to try. The pathetic hope. But I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not immune to such things. I just wanted you more to my taste first.”

“Really? The fact I’m dead not enough for you?” Killian rasps through his dry lips and thick tongue.

“Oh now, that’s the _spirit_. But, no, it is not. Fucking dead things bored me aeons ago, pirate. I am now a man with certain tastes. And for full satisfaction, I need…, let me see. A level of brokenness. A _ruination_. And some certain depravity…” Hades splays his fingers at Killian’s shoulders and draws them down his bare back, skating over his wounds, before stopping at a wide gash over one of his kidneys. “Ah yes,” he says, “this will do nicely.”

Killian feels the cold of the blade, then the heat of it splitting his skin, re-opening the wound, and then, the pain. He grunts as he feels Hades fingers slip into it, opening up the old scar, stretching the edges, making it bleed. And the pain, the overwhelming pain of it. He’s panting.

“You’re lucky I’m not so vulgar as to stick my cock right in here,” Hades says quietly.

“Nice to know you have standards,” Killian chokes out somehow. The pain and persistent thirst is making him feel light headed. Hades never lets him pass out, but sometimes he can escape a little into a strange delirious twilight. Killian cranes his neck to look at Hades. He’s still playing his fingers in the wound he’s made. As Killian watches he lifts his bloody fingers to his lips and licks at the blood. “So you’re a vampire now?” Killian croaks.

“Don’t be coarse. And you still can’t think why I might want my fingers lubricated?” He rubs the pads of his fingertips together, mixing up the spit and blood. “You disappoint me. Come on now. I’m not going to stick my cock in that gash, so where is it going?”

“No,” Killian says, his voice low and distant as it dawns. He isn’t so naive as to have have imagined this wasn’t coming some day, or even that it wasn’t coming now. However, the full realisation hits like stone. “No, no. Please.”

But Hades already has one finger circling his asshole. “Oh yes, yes, pirate.” 

“Please. Please don’t. Not that. Hit me again. Burn me.” Perhaps this would have been easer if it had happened earlier. But now, after all this time. All this torture, it’s too much. After everything else this monster has done. That. Now. From his tormentor. Saved until he was this weak and desperate. It feels like a worse violation now he knows this man is a monster. And that’s the horror of it. That this thing, this devil, who had delighted in his cries of pain time after time, would steal pleasure from his body.

Hades finger slips inside. The blood that coats it, is too sticky to soothe. Killian yells out and pulls at the restraints around his wrists. They’re barbed so that when he struggles they tear his skin, such skin that he has on his wrists these days. But even with his body so broken and his strength gone he fights against this. 

“Yes, this normally does crush the spirit even pain doesn’t reach. Although, of course.” Hades cocks his head. “Some people like pain.”

“Not from you,” Hook says, hoping for a defiant snarl but he knows he sounds broken. He is.

“You break my heart,” Hades says. A coo. A hand stroking his flank. “But, no matter, I get to _break_ you right back. But, now, before we begin I want to plant an image in your mind. You are here because _you deserve this_. Torments in my realm are uniquely tailored to be adequate punishment for those souls turned over to me. You receive my special attention because you, as a human, were evil and you were scum. You caused suffering. You were a villain. This is what you _deserve_.” Hades slips another finger into him and it’s too much already. Killian wishes he could do something, just to hold it off for a moment, but he can’t. He’s fixed in position, open and vulnerable, stretched wide, legs spread, ass presented and ashamed of it. Hades is working those two fingers deep inside him slicked with a mess of blood and spit and he cant do anything to stop it, to protect himself. There’s nothing. There’s no hope.

 

“I want you to think, specifically ,about why you’re here,” Hades continues “How you got here. What you did when you were overcome by the darkness. Some people fight it you know. Fight it hard. Emma Swan, for example, what was the worst thing she did? Oh yes, try and save your life because she loved you.” 

“She turned me into a monster,” Killian croaks, “I begged her not to.”

“True, true but we both know how easy it is to resist your pathetic begging.” Hades adds a third finger. Killian grunts. As resigned to the invasion now as he is horrified. “So don’t be too hard on the girl, she tried to resist after all. Unlike some people. Did you even try? I think you were murdering in less that 24 hours. Which is good news for me because it means you don’t deserve _a lick_ of mercy.” He leans in close. “Trust me, I only rape the ones who truly deserve it.”

He feels a movement and he knows it’s Hades getting into position to fuck him. And then the fingers are gone and it’s happening. Hard and sudden and nowhere near enough slickness so it’s all burn. Burn and the thumping rhythm of Hades’s thrusts driving into the frame he’s strapped into. 

But that’s just pain and for all it’s a violation, it’s just physical.

The other pain is worse. He’s here because he deserves it. Hades is raping and torturing because he deserves it. He deserves this, nothing but this forever. It’s true. He knows it’s true.

_He betrayed them all. Everyone who ever loved him._

There are tears on his face.

He doesn’t notice Hades coming, but when he pulls out something drips from his asshole. Hades walks around him and lifts his head with a single finger under his chin. 

“Shame you won’t always be that tight,” Hades says, touching Killian’s lips with is thumb. “Still I suppose there are always…” he lets his thumb press inside. “Options.”

“Please,” Killian says and his voice is raw. His dry throat ravaged by screaming.

“You seem like you want something. Do you? If so you should ask me now while I’m feeling affectionate towards my new lover.”

There’s only one thing. The only comfort he can imagine. “Please,” Killian croaks. “Please. Water.”

Hades smiles. He looks around. There’s no water in the room. But he says, “How can I refuse you,” and he takes his spent dick out of his pants, says, “Here. For you,” and begins to piss over Killian’s face.

And Killian, desperate, drinks as much of it as he can lap into his dry mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Heliotrope is a colour but it just doesn't sounds like one.


End file.
